Broken
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Emily is back and Doyle is dead, but can Dave fix what is left of the woman he loves. OOC and AU.
**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Spoiler's for the Lauren storyline. Sort of.**

 **Completely AU, and OOC.**

* * *

 **Broken**

* * *

The rain poured in sheets as his windscreen wipers worked overtime so he had some form of visibility. All he wanted was to be home, with a glass of scotch and some calming music. It'd been a hell of a few weeks. Doyle caught and killed. Emily dead then alive, then missing. He didn't know what to think, what to say, what to do. The team, their dysfunctional family, was falling apart at the seams and there was nothing he could do but stand and watch.

Pulling into his driveway, Dave didn't see the figure sitting on the low step of his porch until he was almost parked right beside it. He watched her for a second before he got out of the car, pulling his go bag with him as he did. He hadn't expected to find her there, but the overwhelming feeling of relief at seeing her took a moment to settle.

"Em?"

She looked up when he called her name, and he saw the remnants of her mascara staining her face. Whether by tears or the rain that had soaked her through, he wasn't completely sure, but he'd put money on the former.

"What are you doing here, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

The strong, independent woman he remembered was absent, leaving behind a shell of the person she was. This Emily was vulnerable and looked like anything above a whisper would send her racing away.

"I... I don't know. I just... I'm sorry. So, so sorry, Dave. I should go, I uh... yeah. I should go."

She stood up as he stepped closer, turning her face away. She tried to step around him, but he blocked her path with his arm, waiting until she looked at him.

"Come inside, Emily. You're soaked through."

She hesitated, and he lifted his hand to her cheek.

"Come on, sweetheart, let's get you dry and warm."

She allowed him to lead her into the house, and while he didn't really want to leave her in his large lounge alone, in case she run away before he could talk to her, he really did need to find her something dry to wear. He moved quickly up the stairs after dropping his go bag by the laundry room, grabbing a pair of sweats and an old FBI tshirt and hoodie from his drawers.

He was happy to find her still there when he returned downstairs, and he directed her off to the downstairs bathroom with a little push and a smile. As she closed the door behind her, Dave took a deep breath.

He was worried about her. Emily Prentiss was the strongest woman he knew and she looked... broken. Tormented. Utterly miserable. He debated for a moment in pouring himself a generous measure of whisky, but decided against it. He needed all of his wits about him to try and talk Emily down from the figurative ledge. If he couldn't help her, he had a feeling none of them would see her again.

He waited for the door to open, and when she stepped out, he had to suppress a smile. She looked adorable in his far too big for her clothes, but he was quite sure she wouldn't appreciate him telling her so.

"Give me your clothes, Em. I'll put them through the wash."

She did as he asked, and he couldn't help notice that as soon as her arms were empty, she wrapped them around herself again. It was as though she was holding herself together. He quickly dealt with the washer, and moved them both back into the lounge, where it was starting to get warm.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, when he gestured her to the sofa.

She shook her head.

"I'll be back."

Five minutes later, Dave returned with two steaming cups of hot chocolate. He handed one over to her and sat down beside her. He could have sat in any of the chairs just as easy, but he still couldn't fully believe that she was there and the proximity was helping.

"I'd ask how you are, but I can see that for myself, so why don't you tell me what's going on?" he asked.

Her lips tilted up marginally. "You never did beat around the bush, did you? I missed that."

Then she did something that completely surprised him.

She burst into tears.

Taking the cup from her hands, and putting them both on the table beside him, Dave wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against his chest. He rocked her gently, murmuring words of comfort and love, waiting for her emotions to settle down again. It took a while. When Emily pulled away, she looked embarrassed, and he rolled his eyes at her good naturedly.

"You've been through a lot, it's a natural reaction," he told her, picking his cup back up.

"I went to his funeral. Ia - Doyles, I mean. I... It's hard. I mean, logically, I know that I should hate him for all he's done, and part of me really does. But then, that was Doyle, and even though I went in because it was my job, I did love Ian. I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense."

"It makes perfect sense. You went deep under cover, Emily, that always leaves its own mark. I'd have been more worried if you didn't develop feelings for the man you were living with for over two years."

"I bet you're the only one who feels that way. Derek and Spencer... they hate me."

"They're angry," Dave admitted. "And confused. But they love you."

Emily scoffed quietly. "I should never have come back."

"You would really have left everyone believing you dead? Can't you see that that would be worse in the long run. Yes, they're angry now, but they love you and they'll come around."

She shrugged. "I won't be here to see it. I won't push myself on them only to be knocked back over and over because they find what I did unforgivable. I haven't got the fight left in me, Dave."

Dave held her eyes with his own. She was pleading with him to understand, and he did; to a point. It was important to him, though, that she realise just how much they all needed her to stay. How much he needed her to stay.

"So when you told Strauss that you needed to think about it? Was that just a way to escape the room without too many questions? Are you going to decline her offer?"

As she nodded her head, Dave saw a tear escape her eye and he tracked it down her cheek.

"We need you, Emily. As much as you don't believe me, we do. Let me prove it to you?"

"How?"

"Stay here tonight. I'll have the team here for dinner tomorrow night. We'll all sit down and talk properly."

"I can't face them, Dave."

"You can and you will. You owe it to yourself to face them, Emily, because disappearing again isn't going to help anyone, least of all, you."

"And if I'm right?"

"Then I'll help you move," he agreed readily. He knew the next night wouldn't be easy for anyone, but it was also necessary. If it meant that Emily would stay in DC, and at the BAU, it would be worth it.

She sighed. "Fine."

* * *

"She was here when I got home," Dave said with a sigh. "She wants to leave, Aaron. She thinks that the team doesn't want her."

"We can't let her do that," Hotch muttered. "She deserves better, and the team need her. Have you tried to convince her otherwise?"

"Of course. I managed to convince her to stick around long enough to have dinner with the team tomorrow evening. Honestly, we're fighting an uphill battle. She's... I've never seen her so vulnerable. Even after Colorado and her friend dying."

Hotch swore softly. "Alright, you call JJ and Spencer, I'll call Derek and Penelope. Six o clock tomorrow evening?"

"Six o clock. We need to fix this, Aaron."

"I know. You love her, don't you?"

"You know I do."

"Tell her, Dave. It might just give her a reason to stick around."

* * *

Emily sat at the breakfast bar, an untouched glass of wine in front of her, wringing her hands together. The team was due any moment, and she felt sick. How could she explain to them that she slept with a terrorist for a profile? That she fell in love with a terrorist for a profile? Dave was flitting around the kitchen, creating some kind of Italian magic.

The doorbell rang, and her heart dropped into her stomach. She saw Dave glance at her before he left the kitchen. Voices in the hallway caught her attention, but she couldn't make out whatever words were being spoken.

A moment later, a hand on her shoulder made her jump, and she looked up to see Hotch standing next to her.

"Hey you," he murmured, squeezing gently.

She offered him as much a smile as she could manage. "Hey."

"It's going to be alright, Em, you'll see."

She took a deep breath. "I wish I had your faith, Hotch."

Before Aaron could answer, the doorbell rang again, and more voices arrived in the hallway. One by one, the team trickled into the kitchen. Emily lowered her head, not wanting to meet any of their eyes. She wondered briefly why they had even turned up, but figured that both Hotch and Dave could be persuasive when the moment called for it.

"We all know why we're here," Hotch said, and she heard a hint of his SSAIC tone in the words. "We all have issues that need to be discussed, and this was the best way to see that everyone had their say. I understand why you're upset. I understand why you feel betrayed. What I don't understand is why those feelings are being directed at Emily."

"Come on, Man, we have a right to be angry. She could have told us that she was going into Witness Protection. She didn't have to let us believe she was dead for months."

Emily's head fell lower.

"Emily wasn't even in the state when she woke up," Hotch replied in a controlled voice. "I made the decision to have her taken away. I made the decision to allow the world to believe that Emily Prentiss died on the table. Which, I might add, she did. Three times."

"You died, Emily? It was that close?"

Emily looked up when she heard Spencer's question and nodded her head. "I didn't wake up until two weeks after the warehouse."

Penelope and JJ both had tears running down their faces as they looked at their best friend. Just the idea that they had been so close to losing her for real was terrifying.

"And before the warehouse? Why didn't you come to us, Emily? We could have helped you!"

"I was scared," Emily snapped, meeting Morgan's eyes. "He would have used you, all of you, to get to me. He threatened you. He had surveillance on every single one of you. If I'd involved you, he'd have had you killed for kicks. You think I could have lived with that kind of guilt, Derek? Do you think you could? I did what I had to do to make sure that he didn't come after the people I love. If you want to hate me for that, then go ahead and hate me."

Dave smiled at Aaron, glad that Emily was fighting back.

"I don't hate you, Emily. You're my best friend, I love you. I just... I want to be someone you feel you could turn to."

"You are, Derek. This was... it was different. It was something that none of you should have ever had to deal with. I caused it, so it was up to me to fix it."

Crossing the room in a few steps, Derek wrapped his arms around Emily, pulling her into a bone crushing hug. "Ever disappear on me like that again, and I'll hunt you down and kick your ass," he threatened.

She sank into the embrace, clutching at the back of his t shirt. "I missed you. So much, Derek."

"I missed you too, Princess. It felt like I was missing a vital body part. Promise you won't leave again?"

She pulled back to look at him. "I promise I'll talk to you before I do."

He frowned. "You are coming back to the team, right?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure yet."

"Profiling is who you are, Emily. It's a lifestyle, not a job. Why wouldn't you come back?"

She sighed. "I guess I'm just not really sure of my place in the team any more. You're all so angry, rightfully so, and I just... I don't want to ruin the team dynamic."

"The only way you could ruin the team dynamic is to leave us," JJ interjected. "We need you, Em."

Emily glanced from Hotch to Dave, then to Morgan. All three of them were nodding at JJ's words. Penelope had a big grin on her face, and Emily didn't need to be a profiler to see the love shining from the Tech Analyst's eyes.

Moving her gaze to Spencer, Emily tilted her head to the side. She knew Reid would be the hardest person to deal with, mostly because he didn't like change but also because he would have been hurt the most by the deceit.

He smiled at her. "I missed you."

"I missed you, Spence."

"Come back?"

Looking down at her hands, Emily sighed, then stood up.

"Where are you going?" Dave asked, when she stepped away from the breakfast bar and headed for the door.

"To phone Strauss. I need my badge and gun back."

* * *

The team left a few hours later, and Emily moved to follow them, but Dave stopped her.

"Stay for a while?"

She nodded. "Sure."

"Where are you living now?" he asked, as the two got comfortable in the living room.

"A hotel. I need to start looking for an apartment. I didn't know if I was staying before, so it seemed pointless."

"You can stay here, you know? As long as you'd like."

"Thank you for the offer, Dave, but I wouldn't like to impose."

"Not an imposition when I offer," he argued, nudging her shoulder with his own. "I missed you, Em. It'd be nice to spend some extra time with you."

She was silent for a moment, before she looked up to meet his eyes. "I think you were the one I missed the most, you know? I dialled your number so many times, but I couldn't... I didn't want to put you in danger."

"You're here now. It's all that really matters in the end. You're here. You're alive and healthy."

She leant into him and he wrapped his arm around her, kissing her head. "I love you, Emily."

The words slipped out without his permission and he froze. That wasn't how he wanted to tell her. He'd been thinking a meal, with wine and romance.

She sat up and looked at him carefully. He could see the confusion and the hope in her eyes, and he left his expression completely open for her to read. When he realised what she was struggling with, he raised a hand to caress her cheek.

"I'm in love with you," he corrected himself quietly.

He watched his words sink in, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest when a breathtaking smile lit up her face. She leant in closer, so he could feel her breath on his lips.

"I love you too," she whispered, before she closed the gap between them and sealed her words with a kiss.


End file.
